American Gospel
by lucayathegood
Summary: A Heroine and a Villain and the lines they are inevitably bound to cross. thundercest.
1. In the am

**_Hey, guys. I apologize for not updating any of my other stories, I've just been super busy lately. I know this isn't a lot, but I wanted to make sure I didn't post everything I have written all at once so that this story doesn't end up on hiatus indefinitely. This was originally supposed to be a one shot, but it should end up being around five chapters. I'll try to get chapter two up soon! As always, I love you guys for reading. But it would mean a lot if you kindly left a review :)_**

It's 1:17 a.m. When he's awoken suddenly by the glaring sound of knuckles against his front door, and 1:23 am when he finally drags his ass out of bed and makes it to said door.

" _Phoebe_?" That's his greeting.

He figures that after getting through an almost entire semester without her coming to visit him in his dorm, it was inevitable that it would happen at some point. She was always barging in to his lair back in Hiddenville. Nonetheless, it's still something of a shock that she's clutching a pillow and blanket, red eyes hidden behind the glasses she doesn't let anyone see her in.

His eyes scrunch together, confusion threatening his calm state of exhaustion. (Good God he's so freaking tired.) What could have happened to her?

"Is everything okay?" He voices his thoughts, too tired to think before speaking. Normally he would have gone for something a bit ruder, sure. Maybe a crack at her unkempt hair or the fact that she's wearing Grinch themed slippers in place of actual shoes. But he's been studying for his final (he's shocked, too) for at least seven hours. It's nothing compared to how long Phoebe must have studied for her heroes exam last week, he thinks absentmindedly. He just can't be held responsible for the lack of insults escaping his lips at the moment.

"I had a fight with my roommate," she begins, sniffling. She's just standing there, just waiting for some kind of reply that Max isn't sure how to give. A fight with her _roommate_? What kind of fight with a friend could have been so bad that she, a _hero_ , ventured across the line between their two universities? Heroes aren't often seen around Villains U, and when they are they're given the attention of a circus animal. The two schools are located right across the street from each other but might as well be worlds apart. Phoebe might come to visit Max now and again, but it was usually in mutual hangouts in town. Max figures it must have taken more than some silly fight to get her over here.

Max squeezes his eyes shut and rubs them harshly, waiting for her to elaborate.

She does, and in great detail. For an entire thirteen minutes and twenty seven seconds - he'd counted - she tells him of the pros and cons of having a roommate, along with the boyfriend they had apparently been fighting over the entire semester. And since when did Phoebe have a boyfriend?

Max cleans around his room, though he wouldn't me able to tell you why if you asked him, giving the occasional "Yeah" and "uh-huh."

"...not like we weren't already pretty exclusive by that point."

"Exactly." He says this, assures her he's still listening.

Without warning Phoebe pauses mid-rant, somewhere between where Calvin (so that's his name) had taken her on their anniversary date, to the texts she'd seen Aimee (roommate) sending to him.

Max hears her spit in the bathroom sink, listens to the sound her toothbrush makes when she sets it next to his. Not that he saw her lie it there, he just figures. She lingers over the threshold between the bathroom and his room, suddenly aware of the fact that Max had been multitasking - listening to her story while cleaning his room and eventually pulling his comforter back.

"What are you doing?" Her tone mimics casualness, and the retainer she's got in is giving her a slight lisp. Max can't help but think that's...

"I thought you were studying for your final.. You change your mind?"

"Nah, it's not for me, anyways. It's for you." Phoebe raises an eyebrow, her good one, in response.

"I'm taking the couch," he explains. His head tilts in the direction of the furniture he's referring to.

"Oh, Max, you don't have to do that." She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. "I can stay up, too," she offers. "Help you study, if you want."

That's not too bad of an idea, he thinks. But he needs zero distractions if he wants any kind of chance at passing this final tomorrow. Exactly what kind of distraction Phoebe would be for him, Max doesn't think about.

"I'll be okay," he assures her. He fluffs his pillows subconsciously, smoothing the blanket out over his bed. "Besides, I'm not really sure how much of a help a Super _Hero_ would be for my Super _Villain_ exam." His attempt at being funny does nothing but gain a tired sigh from Phoebe. So he tries again.

"I've kinda got to do this myself if I want to pass."

Phoebe's eyebrows raise, a smirk playing on her lips. She raises her hand to cup her ear. "I'm sorry, is that a new found maturity my thundersense is picking up?" She tries her best to hide her smile, inevitably failing. Her laugh makes him laugh, too.

"Ha Ha. Make all the jokes you want, Pheebs. I gotta get to bed."

"Oh," she responds. Her smile fades just a little. Not enough to tell. "No, yeah. I get that." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Well, thanks," she tries at a lighter smile. "For letting me have you for the night." It's not what he thinks she meant to say. He won't correct her, though.

"No biggie." He watches lazily while she sets her glasses on the bedside table and carefully slips beneath the blanket. He's still staring before he's aware of the fact or that it's probably creeping her out a bit. It's just that the sight of her in his bed like that is making him feel...like... _some_ way. He's not too sure of what way that is yet. Shrugging off the feelings, he flicks the light switch off. He turns to leave once he's made sure she's okay.

"Good luck, Max." Her voice is quieter than it had been moments before - more timid but intent just the same. He turns to face her in surprise, watching the way she pulls the blanket up under her chin and snuggles into her pillow. She's already close to sleep, he can tell.

"You know, in case I'm not up in the morning to tell you," she mutters as an afterthought, voice muffled by her pillow (and there's that lisp again). Not that she might not be there in the morning, but that she just might not be awake yet. Why does the thought of Phoebe still being in his dorm in the morning comfort him?

Max turns his head. "I'll try my best," he shrugs. "We can't all be Dweebs."

He doesn't miss her smile before the door is shut.


	2. All is Fair

_**Yayyyy, I finally finished this chapter! Thank you for reading - I'd love to hear any constructive criticism you guys might have in regards to the story or my writing so that I can improve, or even just what you enjoyed :)**_

* * *

"... early tomorrow, I _promise_."

So Max was late for his final. Yeah. Not exactly something he planned for, first of all. Second of all, he couldn't have pictured this time yesterday that he would be pleading (hands clasped together, on his knees, the whole schtick) with his professor to give him a second chance. This is everything he's wanted - everything he's told himself he deserves - for years now. One stupid mistake could mean the difference between a successful life of evil fulfillment fighting supes like his sister, and working the late shifts at the local grocery store while fighting part-time against supes in training. _God_ , no thanks. Max will be damned before he lets his future arch nemesis be anyone less qualified than Phoebe. She's just good, alright? She's a challenge. (but don't tell her he thinks that.)

"I'm begging you," he tries with desperation. Even as he says it, though, he knows that it won't make a difference.

"Off of your knees, Thunderman. Let's go," his professor shoots backs. She's disappointed - that's obvious.

Max does as she orders, standing up and brushing the dirt from the middle of his jeans. (Someone really needs to start cleaning these floors.)

"Villains do not beg..." Her voice holds stern. Reminds Max of what he should already know. She waits expectantly.

"...They take what they want?" Max tries, expressions unsure. This is what she wanted to hear, Max thinks. This is what he'd been taught all semester. Its is all that being a villain encompasses - you decide what it is you want and you stop at nothing until it's yours. Even if it's something as seemingly unimportant in the grand scheme of things as this silly test. Max knows this. So why is it that the answer sounds correct to his ears but feels so foreign to his conscience?

"Precisely." Max lightens at this, even if the words of his professor unsettle him in a way he can't place.

"So that's a yes?"

"No," his professor shuts him down, hands holding the classroom door open, ready to close it on him. Her tone is unwavering, unforgiving. Disappointment sets in, even if Max figured this was the response he would get.

"I understand." His shoulders relax from the tense position they'd held the entire conversation. He moves to grab his forgotten bag from the floor. Why did he think begging would save his ass?

"But if you're here at 5 a.m. tomorrow," his professor's voice resonates in the hallway, quiet as it may be. She waits until she's got his full attention, "...I think I could make an exception."

The sound the door makes when she shuts it echoes throughout the hallway.

* * *

Max still blames Phoebe.

It's not like he woke up with the intention of leaving so late, but when he got up to tell her he was leaving and to haul ass out of his room, he found her asleep. In his bed.

Which, yeah. He knew she was in there - he'd put her to bed last night himself. Why would it surprise him? But it did. She just, she was laying there with her arms tucked around her pillow and she looked so... _sweet_. And content, and angelic.. if a bit ragged, too. (What? He's not gonna lie). It's just, there's a sight he never thought he'd see, right? Because he didn't think about it. Why would he?

He only wished she'd been awake to tell him that pictures last longer, or whatever it was she was always telling him. So, like, obviously it was her fault (why is Max lying to himself) that he'd lost track of time just standing there. (But not like that guy in Twilight, because he's not creepy.)

It's a wonder he gets through the day, the sleep deprivation and stress giving him headaches rivaling those of a bad hangover.

When he finally makes it back to his dorm, he's not exactly expecting what he walks in to. Spoiler alert: it's Phoebe. Watching tv on his couch.

"Oh, hey Max!" She says when she finally notices him. His name is spoken with such enthusiasm you wouldn't have guessed she'd just been crying the night before.

Max sets his keys on the coffee table, removing his coat and tossing it there's too. Because... Okay. She doesn't come to visit in his dorm all semester and now she won't seem to leave. Not that he's exactly complaining, but still. Why now?

"Hey, Pheebs..." he begins, a hint of suspicion mixed with genuine surprise coloring his tone. "... _what_ are ya still doin here?" If he put emphasis on the _still_ , he definitely meant to.

She stands, making her way to the small kitchen area on their right. "Nothing, really." She clears the counter top, not making eye contact. "I guess I just wanted to hang out?"

"Something still bothering you?" He's not sure if that's the reason she's still here, but he knows it's not to "hang out." Because if it were, he's thinking he would've seen a lot more of her in the past four months than just quick hellos at parties and flashes of waves across restaurants. He pushes, but only because he remembers how much she'd cried last night. Well, before going off on the tangent about her supposed love-triangle, something he must've cleared out of his mind during the finals fiasco until just now.

"Max, come on. Can a sister not hang out with her brother under _normal_ circumstances without the ulterior motive of coming to him for comfort?"

" _Pheebs_ , come on," he mocks her. "Can a brother not ask his sister a question without her turning her bullshit answers into novels?"

She looks a little offended, but he knows she's dancing around whatever subject she's here for so he can't be bothered to care too much.

Her chin juts out, an air of faux-superiority surrounding her. "I don't know what you're talking about." And even she knows that was a useless line.

He gives her a pointed look that says _cut the crap_ and she gives him one that says _there's nothing to cut_ but then he's giving her one right back that's saying _you've always been a terrible liar_ and then she cracks.

"Ugh, fine. So, I _may_ have heard about what happened today. About your final. You know, the one you missed."

"Oh, I know," he reminds her.

"And I just can't help but think," she says, ignoring his dismissive behavior, "that it was kind of my fault."

 _No kidding_ , he thinks but doesn't say.

"So," she continues, "I just thought I might return the favor, and say thanks for letting me crash here last night." She's rifling through his cramped cabinets, searching for glasses that Max's 89 percent sure are sitting uncleaned in his dishwasher right now (One of the drawbacks to no roommate is definitely having no one else to help out when Max slacks off. Which is admittedly most of the time.) (Don't act so surprised.)

Phoebe gives up after a few more seconds of looking, opting instead for grabbing water bottles he isn't aware he has from the refrigerator. She stands for a minute, just looking at him, clearly waiting for a response he's too tired to give her. His eyes glaze over for a minute, concentrating on the bottles of water in her hand. And, yep, those definitely weren't his. Being a first year college student who needs to spend all of the extra money he has on creating new gadgets and lasers and all of the stuff he can to impress his teachers, he isn't always leaving enough money for the necessities, which results in a dinner of ramen and tap water more nights than he's willing to admit. He thinks he'd know cheap anywhere, and these were not it. And they were bottles of "black water". What the _hell_ is black water, and why is Phoebe buying it for him? Did she go shopping while he was out?

He might miss the fact that he's completely zoned out right now, but she doesn't. She breathes out a long sigh, gesturing to the small table behind her. "I brought take out?" She tries, and only then does he notice the box of pizza behind her. His stomach growls and he places a hand on his stomach, suddenly aware that he must've been so stressed all day that he hadn't even eaten, much less thought about it.

Phoebe may roll her eyes, but it's no real surprise when his next words are said to the _food_ and not to her.

They're three five slices, respectively, into their pizza (no pineapples on one half, because Phoebe doesn't like that, and pineapples on the other, because Max doesn't like _her_ ) before Max draws his attention away from the food in his hands long enough to attempt any sort of conversation Phoebe has eagerly been waiting on all day.

"Attempt" is a term used loosely. A better word would be "offer." The _correct_ word would be "burps."

Phoebe scrunches her nose, turning away slightly. "Gross. Could you maybe not do that while we're eating?" She fans the air in disgust.

"I don't know. Could you _maybe_ not tell what to do?" And, ouch. He doesn't know why he snaps like that or necessarily why he says it, but it's out and she heard it and by the time she's opening her mouth in shock he realizes he can't exactly take it back.

"Wow, okay. Harsh." There was a word for it.

"I'm sorry," he leans forward on the table, the weight of his head resting tiredly on his arm. "I've had a pretty rough day (year)." He unscrews the bottle cap, lifting his bottle to his lips and drinking.

Her eyes change from hurt to sympathetic, watching him with a weird sense of intrigue. "I know. Which is why I thought I could help you study tonight. I mean, I'm already here, aren't I? And let's be real, you've never been the best studier." She's laughing at her own joke. Max can't decide if he should be grateful or offended.

He liftshis head from its position on his hand long enough to look up at her. "I don't know, Pheebs. It's getting pretty late." He rubs a hand over his eyes. "And I already studied a ton yesterday."

"No, because I barged in and interrupted you." Kind of like she's doing now? She stands, gathering their paper plates and napkins to throw away.

"It's my way of making it up to you. And this way I can make sure you don't just fall asleep or something stupid." Max would have been fine with just the pizza. Not that he isn't grateful that he has a sister willing to help him excel and support him in a field she couldn't disagree more with, because he is. But ugh, he's so tired.

Phoebe's washing her hands, speaking to Max with words he stopped understaning the second his left eye shut and then completely stopped hearing when his right eye followed not too closely behind.

"...do you say, Max?"

"Max?"

" _Ow_!" At least the empty water bottle she throws at his head bounces off and lands close enough to his chair that he doesn't have to walk too far to get it.

He chucks it in the trash. "Really unnecessary," he mutters under his breath, reaching a hand behind to touch the back of his head.

"So?" She's standing behind him, still waiting expectantly on an answer. Which is weird, because he thinks the fact that she's still here should make the answer pretty obvious.

He pauses just a minute, partly because he's tired but mostly to make her mad. When she doesn't break eye contact for ten seconds, he gives in.

"Ughhhh, fine. I _guess_ you can help me study."

Her squeal makes his head throb.

"I'll start making flash cards!"

* * *

"...last one...a formal or authoritative statement or assertion."

"Dictum."

"Which would make an example of a _villanous_ dictum..."

"All is fair in love and want?"

"War. All is fair in love and _war_. But close."

"Right." Max places his hands on his knees, stands from his spot on the couch. A spot he'd made very warm for the last _four_ hours of studying.

Phoebe repeats his actions abruptbly, getting up, too. She was standing close. A little too close for Max's liking at midnight. He just has a lot on his mind."

"Where are you going?" she asks.

"You said that was the last one."

"Yeah, but-" she cuts herself off, not quite sure where she was going with that train of thought, or why she felt a little disspointed. She shuffles through the flashcards herself, making sure they're all in place. "No, yeah, you're right. It was."

"Yep," he says, a tad confused as to why the mood has suddenly, if just barely, shifted. "It's getting pretty late, anyways," he pretends to check a watch that they both know isn't there.

She snorts at his failed attempt of whatever it was he was trying to accomplish, crossing her arms over her chest. "Wouldn't want a repeat of yesterday."

He laughs, though he thinks it's got more to do with the sleep deprivation and less to do with how funny what she'd said actually was. "Nope." And is it just him or is he having trouble answering her in words that end in anything other than "-pe?"

He listens to the quiet nothing, hands falling into his pockets. Is he supposed to, like, tell her goodnight or something? Say bye? And then he remembers this is his dorm and not their parents' house. That their beds are across the streets from each other and not just a floor level apart.

"You can, like, crash here if you want." He tries to sound casual about it. "Take my bed."

She looks taken aback slightly, but like she knew he was going to offer eventually, she was just waiting for when that would be. "Are you sure? I mean, I know that a lot to ask. Twice in one we-"

"I don't want you going across two campuses this late." He thinks he meants to say _yeah, it's okay,_ but that's not what came out. Because it's true. This isn't some normal college, where people are pursuing teaching careers and not the super-villain profession. And even then. It just isn't safe, especially at night. There are people out there jumping at the chance to prove themselves, and a hero wandering the streets alone this late, even one as quickly qualified as she, is fresh meat to them, and he tells her this.

Eyebrows raise as she considers what he says. "Wow, didn't think you cared." Her words call bullshit, but her tone tells a different story.

"Yes, you did," he says back. She's stepping in to his bedroom before he's even aware that she's left (again, the sleep deprivation thing), but she leaves the door slightly ajar. Two minutes later and he's almost ready to start dreaming about winter break, can almost see the passing final grade and hear the sleighbells jingling.

"Max?" A voice asks him in the darkness. A voice from his bedroom.

"Hmmmph?" He half asks, half grumbles in response.

"You..." there's hesitation in her voice. "I'm a SuperHero. You know I can take care of myself."

Okay. He knows this already. Phoebe's as great as they come. So is she asking him or _reminding_ him?

"Don't you?" And _there_ 's the question.

He shifts so that his pillow isn't directly covering his mouth. "Yeah..ah _course_ ," he mumbles back, loud enough for her to hear.

Phoebe takes a moment to process this. Of course Max already knew this about her. She already knew this about herself. Why did she feel the need for reassurance?

"Yeah," she says. "Okay." And that's the last thing Max hears before his eyes shut again.


	3. Charmed

_**I'll apologize in advance - this is definitely a filler chapter. I was torn between waiting to finish the second part of it and post much later, or going ahead and updating. I've just been working on the later chapters because I'm highkey so much more excited about those. This chapter is also very short and dialogue-heavy, but I'm trying to develop the story more and make their romance more slow burn. Nonetheless, I really hope you guys enjoy :) Sorry for the long wait!**_

"Max, have you seen my bracelet?"

"I'm gonna need you to clarify. You have about a million of those things lying around here."

"The one that connects to the ring..with the silver and the little twisty thing on the side?"

She paces around the dorm, sighing when she sees him completely ignoring her, phone in hand.

"Ugh can you get off the couch and help me? He'll be here any minute!"

Max clicks his phone off, not bothering to look up at her, but standing regardless.

"Slow your roll, drama dweebs. I'm on it."

Two couch cushions later, Max's got what she's looking for. He waits as she walks towards him in a hurry, careful not to trip in her heels. Her dress is red, a color Max has learned through the years Phoebe only reserves for very special occasions. It's no wonder why..it looks great on her. (Though Max could argue that she'd look great no matter what color she's wearing) (but why would he do that)

"Thank you thank you thank you!" She squeals.

"You're welcome you're welcome you- yeah, I'm not finishing that."

Phoebe rolls her eyes with a smirk, placing her outstretched hand in his.

"Put it on for me? My nails are still drying." She lifts her other hand to her mouth, gently blowing her nails dry.

"Did I somehow miss out on our childhood or were you always this high-maintenance?" He asks, but complies.

"Not high maintenance, just extremely nervous." She jumps up and down a little, attempting to calm her nerves.

"About that.." Max begins, "Are you sure you still even want to see this guy? Sounded kind of like he was seeing Abby on the DL last semester.."

"Aimee," she corrects. "And I'm shocked you remember."

He raises his eyebrows at her. "Shocked? That I remember the reason behind why I now have jewelry lying around my house at all times?"

"Oh, calm down. It's not like this isn't temporary," she quips.

The "this" in question was the two month long unspoken agreement that whenever Phoebe wanted to see Calvin, she slept over at Max's. That way her roommate would never know what she was really doing, and Phoebe would have a place to crash afterwards. And if she visited Max more than what was objectively necessary - i.e. when she didn't have a date, and just wanted to make up for lost time with her brother - or recognized the fact that they were thriving off of each other's company, neither of them mentioned it.

"Temporary? So you don't think this thing will last?"

Phoebe weighs the thought around in her mind. "Honestly? Doubtful. I mean, we all thought I'd be with Link forever, and look how _that_ turned out."

Max rolls his eyes, not too keen on the idea that she still thinks he was in favor of that particular relationship, or any that followed. It's not like he was jealous or anything. Phoebe just didn't have the best taste in guys, her track record proof of this.

"I don't think-" Max begins, losing his train of thought. He squints, holding her hand up in the dim lighting. "How does this thing even work?"

She chuckles, pulling her hand down. "It's a bracelet. Not exactly rocket science."

"Something I'm excelling in, for your information."

"I don't know if I would call a B _excelling_ , but-"

"Do you want this bracelet on or not?"

"Yes, please."

Max doesn't have trouble with jewelry. He's a boy; he's not stupid. Yet neither of them acknowledge the fact that he's just _standing_ there, pretending to look for a problem with her bracelet that obviously isn't there.

"So," he decides to pick up on the topic they'd left behind. "You go out with him... what.. a couple more times, tops? What then?"

Phoebe shrugs, a look of indifference on her face. "I don't know. Just see where it goes, I guess?"

Max scoffs, looking up at her. "' _See where it goes_?' That doesn't sound like the well-to-do Phoebe we all know and tolerate."

She draws back slightly, offended, before squaring up and meeting his eyes. "We didn't talk for months. There's a lot about me you don't know." She tries for a superior tone, but Max sees straight through it.

"Right. And I'm a hero."

Phoebe sighs at his sarcasm, pinching the bridge of her nose in faint annoyance.

"You care why?"

Max takes a moment to consider this. He _doesn't_ care. Not really. At least, he doesn't think he does. Phoebe's love life is Phoebe's love life. And if she wants to make dumb mistakes with it, that's on her. He'll provide the warm bed to stay in, but not the love advice.

"I don't," he decides, not sure if he's assuring her or convincing himself. His eyes lower again, ready to get this stupid bracelet on so she can go on her stupid date with stupid Calvin.

He's finally finished seconds later, ready to let go, when something catches his eye.

Something small and inky and between her pinky and ring finger, to be more specific.

His eyes narrow. "Speaking of things that I don't know..." A grin grows across his lips.

Her eyes follow his, and when it clicks, she pulls her hand back hastily. She isn't quite fast enough.

"Well, well, well.." Max lets out a laugh. "Little miss perfect's got herself a tattoo, does she?"

"Stop it, Max." She hides her hand behind her purse.

"What?" He asks. "I didn't say it was a _bad_ thing. Just...different."

Phoebe hesitates. "You have to promise not to tell Mom and Dad."

He places a hand to his heart, meeting her eyes. "I promise." He manages to let out another laugh before Phoebe's phone rings.

"Hello?-Okay, I'll be right down. Bye."

"You'll go down where?" Max feigns naivety.

Phoebe sends a glare his way, a smirk playing on her lips, nonetheless. She reaches for her coat on the couch.

Max opens the door for her, smiling. Phoebe looks towards him

in amusement.

"Bye, Max," she says, walking past the threshold. He watches her, smile still plastered on his face.

"Hey, Phoebe!" He calls out, not caring that he's caught the attention of a few stray students in the hallway.

She turns back suddenly, caught off guard. "What?" She calls back, waiting expectantly.

"Since when is our family _religious_?"

She scrunches her eyes for a moment, unsure of what he means.

Max motions to her hand with the nod of his head in response.

Phoebe follows his gesture, an "oh" forming with her lips, but never quite reaching her voice. She nods, more to herself than anything.

"We're not," she calls back, turning the corner and leaving him.

The cross between her pinky and ring finger would beg to differ.


End file.
